


Give Us This Day

by velvetcadence



Series: Beatus Vir [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Arguing, Biblical References, Break Up, Declarations Of Love, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Love/Hate, M/M, Poor Charles, Poor Erik, Priest Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actions will always have consequences. Charles learns that when you damn a man, you must learn to let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Us This Day

**Author's Note:**

> You guys should know that the angst in this is [Treasuredleisure](http://archiveofourown.org/users/treasuredleisure/pseuds/treasuredleisure) approved. So.
> 
> This really wasn't the way I planned for the sequel to go, but if the fic grows legs and runs away from you, let it. Thank you again to Cat for the beta!

Somehow Charles knew Father Erik would have warm hands. He was always reasonably dressed, for modesty, and Charles understood this, but it did little to curb the appetite that rose in him every time he saw him in his casual clothes. Father Erik favored turtlenecks that clung to every inch of his skin, and he was either vehemently denying the effect he had on other people or woefully ignorant about it. Charles was only far too aware of how erotic the overall view was, covered but not, modest but not, the broadness of his shoulders tapering to his waist almost indecent.

He was in love with this man. Charles was sixteen but he wasn’t a child anymore. He knew what it was to love someone so much that it hurt him with a visceral pang. No child’s mind could ever conceive this depth of emotion.

After what happened in the confessional, he was looking forward to seeing Father Erik during mass. Perhaps they might rekindle the same wild heat that had sparked during that afternoon only days ago. Father Erik had looked at him with such intensity it was exhilarating, and Charles honestly couldn’t wait to be the focus of that gaze once more.

Father Sebastian presided over the mass today at the schedule meant for Father Erik. Charles had barely slept from excitement because he was to be a thurifer, one of the altar servers tasked with holding the metal case of incense at the priest’s entrance. He would have been mere feet away from Father Erik during the whole mass, and it would have provided him with a wonderful view of the man’s profile.

It was not to be, however, and Charles spent the whole ceremony restless and distracted. He fidgeted during the Homily and almost rushed through the singing of the Our Father. When at last the final blessing was said, Charles relinquished his robes to the small room they also used to store the sacraments and set off to find Father Erik in the priest’s dormitories.

It wasn’t forbidden, per se, but laypersons had no business being about the sleeping quarters of holy men, so Charles took care to tread lightly and not cross anyone in his path.

He eventually found Father Erik with his head bowed in prayer, fingering the beads of his rosary as he murmured the end of a decade. His head whipped up when Charles entered, looking as though the devil himself had knocked at his door.

“What are you doing here?”

“To see you.” Charles’ smile froze on his face. “Are you not happy?”

There was a storm brewing on Father Erik’s face. “You should leave, Charles.”

“Why? After I’ve come all this way? I missed you at mass.”

The priest sighed, and Charles marveled at how the lines in his face looked deeper, how tired he suddenly looked. “Then close the door behind you.”

Charles did, and once the door clicked shut, he stood there awkwardly, staring at the resolute look on Father Erik’s face. This man was so different from the soft, reverent teacher Charles had come to know.

“I suppose if it has to come from anyone, it should come from me.” Father Erik gestured to the space on the bed beside him. If he hadn’t offered, Charles would have taken the lone chair at the desk by the window; the room was bare save for a small closet and a side table that housed a copy of the bible and an image of the Blessed Virgin.

“What is it, Father? Why weren’t you there this morning?”

“Please, Charles. Don’t call me that anymore.”

“I...why?”

“I’m leaving the priesthood.”

Charles’ breath caught. “Is this because of what we did?”

“It was what made me finally decide, yes.” Erik touched the tip of his fingers with the back of Charles’ hand, and he could scarcely breathe, his gaze torn between the elegant shape of Erik’s hand and the steady, earnest look that had replaced the stubborn tilt of his jaw. “I’ve been thinking of leaving for a very long time.”

“...You aren’t happy here,” Charles surmised.

“No. I’m not,” Erik admitted. “I’ve prayed for strength to stay. I probably would have lingered, a year or two more, if it weren’t for you.”

Charles snatched his hand away. The man might as well have struck him with a whip! Suddenly his heart hurt and every frantic breath hurt and his eyes were prickling with what he knew were shameful tears. He looked away in dismay, but Erik would see anyway, and Charles would let him.

“You torment me, Charles,” Erik murmured, a drop of acid in his tone. “Here I think I have finally found peace with my solitude, given up all worldly wants, triumphed over the lusts of flesh, and then you appear like my own personal demon—”

“Stop, stop it, I’m leaving.”

Erik caught his wrist and tugged him close so that he could see the hellfire that burned through his eyes. “You are a child, a selfish and spoiled and arrogant child. You know nothing of the world. You are careless with the hearts that you catch.”

“Let me go,” Charles sobbed.

“What did you think would happen, that day in the confessional? Did you think I could bear to stay after that? That I would be your lover? That I would descend and unlearn my years of sacrifice? For you? For your wicked lips?”

“I don’t know!”

“You know nothing. Just as I know nothing. I know nothing at all.” He let him go, but Charles knew that the circle of his grip had been painful enough to elicit bruises. Erik’s shoulders curved as he cradled his head in his hands, and he looked so defeated Charles found himself trying to console the very man who just had moments before spit vitriol on his virtue. No matter what Erik said, Charles was still stupidly in love with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly, aware of the wetness still staining his eyelashes. Erik turned away from his touch, curved into himself, so Charles had no choice but to kneel on the floor in front of him, appeasing. “All I wanted was you for myself.”

“Selfish,” The man murmured, shaking his head. “You can never have me, and yet you do.”

And then Erik and his beautiful, beautiful hands were cupping Charles’ face and kissing him with a sweetness that made Charles think, _oh!_ Solomon’s Song of Songs seemed to pale in comparison in the wake of Erik’s animal warmth and the honey of his kisses, and Charles eagerly drank, feeling starved for it his whole life.

When they broke for air, Charles kept his hands pressed over Erik’s grip, trying to keep him there.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words given strength by the conviction of his soul. Erik said nothing, but he tucked Charles against his chest and held him for the longest time.

**Author's Note:**

> "Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us."


End file.
